Branded
by yamiskoi
Summary: What Lara thinks as she holds Kurtis' dead body isn't always what people would have thought. My insight. Lara x Kurtis.


I've always been branded with this something. It wasn't the riches or fortunes, and neither is this a worry of my constantly on-edge mind: It is a problem that is very real, and one that I am very aware of.

That is, I am aware that it will never go away.

I have always shied away from large audiences, seeking the company of a few rather than many. Because of this, I have been marked by many names – Some of which I will not repeat right now, partially because my mind will not think.

I have, once, been called unshakeable, and that notion soon became a public belief. I merely shrugged and went along with this ploy, after the feelings of hurt and astonishment went away.

They talk about you as if you are not human, as if you don't have what it means to exist normally. Just because I have riches, and a large house, does not make me any different than your average Joe. Of course, our lifestyles and aspirations are very different, but we do the same fundamental things we all need to do, and this is a fact that the newspapers overlook. We feel, we laugh, we breathe, we imagine and think, but such a thing is often overlooked by a society so intent on believing something that they read in a local tabloid. I'm very certain that if something bad had happened to somebody's cat, I would have been the source of blame, at one point.

I doubt that I need to explain when that time was. I had been a wreck after the ordeal in Egypt, and did not need every person within in forty-mile radius pressing me for a comment or picture. I would fear going outside, if not for the media, then because of the faintest feel that something otherworldly would be awaiting me.

Another irk I have about the media is that they fail to understand the complexity of writing. Emotion, I know, from personal experience and common sense, can be an extremely intricate thing to write, and doing so skilfully often makes me think that they are accomplished in an art form of some kind. And yet, they disregard most of this completely, by peeling away the dark curtain everyone throws over their personal livelihood, to shield what others do not need to know. Yet as a famous outcast and yet follower of the aristocracy population, I learned very early on that it is futile to hide anything from the reporters. Somehow, somewhere information has leaked; perhaps the tongue of a foolish and thoughtless friend has loosened, or maybe I have not been careful enough.

Either way, I am a fool. The only person who could have seen past this façade of constant happiness and unwavering charisma in front of the public was you.

And you, you heartless, insensitive little bastard, have betrayed me. You got yourself killed.

And now… Now I am left with nobody again, left to wander this haunting place of myth and horror alone, with no one out there who I am willing to unveil my true self to.

You, Kurtis, only saw a fragment of this. You only caught a tiny peek now and then, the time so fleeting I doubt you may have even picked up on it.

I have been cheated. The arms that cradle your lifeless, barely recognisable body slowly slither back to my crumpled sides, fingers dipping in the blood as I go, with every intention of etching your name on the floor, a short-lived memento in honour of the short life you lived, when a noise from behind jolts my brain back into action.

You will always be my weakness. Now that I am myself again, I throw myself out of the path of Boaz, snarling as I see her talons slice into your body. She defiles your body, so I will defile hers, in the worst ways possible. Every nerve in her God-forsaken, mutated body will crumble in sheer agony beneath my wrath.

My teeth clench together, and I push myself to my feet as she hovers near your body, as if daring me to approach. I slide my guns from the holster, and with a blood-roaring scream, throw myself at her.

**(Author Notes)**

Okays… I can't really explain this… It's just a bit of drabble, really. What Lara is thinking when she finds Kurtis' body, and how she hates the fact that she was cheated out of a chance at a partially normal life. Not really a sequel to my other fic, I just wrote it on impulse. Please R&R… I also accept CC. :D

Thank you for reading.


End file.
